Payback
by Miss Maia
Summary: He wore a blue tank top, had a crooked grin and was that a faux-hawk? "Hi, babe," Peeta offered casually, and Katniss spit her beer into her hand. Babe? What the …? "Do you want to dance?" Katniss wondered in what universe he thought that was a sexy grin. Not in her world; nope. Those butterflies were the alcohol's fault. Modern Day AU, rated M.


**Author's Note:** Written for the Hunger Games Holiday Exchange to the lovely writer Trippy41!

I loved the prompt and had so much fun with it. Thank you!

_Prompt: _AU. Peeta's brothers give him erroneous information on how to woo Katniss in order to make a fool out of their younger brother. Somehow, despite this, Peeta manages to win the girl of his dreams.

**Summary: **He wore a blue tank top, had a crooked grin and was that a faux-hawk? "Hi, babe," Peeta offered casually, and Katniss spit her beer into her hand. _Babe? What the …? _"Do you want to dance?" Katniss wondered in what universe he thought that was a sexy grin. Not in her world; nope. Those butterflies were the alcohol's fault. Modern Day AU, rated M.

* * *

**Payback**

Her eyes fascinated him; a blend of black and white melding into vivid, sharp grey. Peeta's fingers traced the lines of her face, her body, her shy, discreet smile. Everything about the girl mesmerized him.

The colorless sketch didn't do justice to her olive skin and red lips, or so he thought. His stare landed on the swell of her breasts, the slight curve of her hips. Beyond her face, everything he drew was from his active imagination. Peeta was creative, an artist. His mind was capable of picturing his crush's naked body as if she was lying right next to him on his bed. Or he was simply an aroused seventeen-year-old boy.

He bit his lip while his finger smudged the pencil to darken her nipples, peaked and pointing right at him. The tug on his lips ran down his body, inciting his desire for the girl. He took a deep breath and placed his sketchbook on his desk. If only he could touch her that way … actually, if only he could _talk _to her. His building desire only led to frustration. He was about to grab his sketchbook again when the pounding knock started on his door.

"Go away!" Peeta shouted to the closed door, but the knocking continued. By the strength and impatience of it, it was probably Wheaton.

"Open up, Peet!" Sure enough, his older brother's voice called from the other side of the door. "It's important!" his brother insisted, never stopping his constant assault on Peeta's door.

Peeta ignored him for almost a minute, but when a second, calmer voice joined Wheaton's, he knew he'd have to give up.

He couldn't fight off both his brothers.

"Peeta, it'll just take a minute," Bran said, and Peeta could picture him swiping Wheaton's hand away from the door.

Sighing, Peeta rolled off the bed and opened the door to find two identical faces staring back at him—one grinning from ear to ear and the other frowning. That was the best way to distinguish the Mellark twins: Wheaton was the easy-smiling one, always causing trouble. Bran would clean up after his brother's mess, all the time scowling.

"Today is your lucky day, little bro!" Wheaton entered the room unceremoniously, jumping on Peeta's bed. Bran followed him, messing with Peeta's curls before sitting on his chair. The twins were stronger and taller than Peeta; hair a lighter shade of blond and eyes a darker tone of blue.

"What do you want?" Peeta knew that trying to push Wheaton off his bed would be a lost battle.

"Tonight you're going to a college party!" Wheaton announced, flashing his bright, white smile. "How fun is that for a high school senior, huh?"

"You mean a party where everyone will ignore me and make fun of me?" Peeta asked with an exaggerated grin and false enthusiasm.

"You'll be able to drink …" Wheaton's smile didn't falter as he sat on Peeta's bed, one eyebrow up suggestively.

Peeta was about to reply to his brother with another sarcastic comment when Bran intervened.

"Our car broke down and Dad said we could only use yours if you come with us." It was incredible how identical voices could convey such opposing messages.

Peeta groaned and looked between Wheaton and Bran. At least Wheaton had the decency to shrug in confirmation of Bran's statement.

"And what if I don't want to go?" He regretted his question as soon as Wheaton jumped from the bed and pointed a finger at his face.

"You piece of shit! We always helped you when you couldn't drive!" Bran pushed Wheaton back on the bed before they turned into a blond, tangled mess—with the three Mellarks wrestling, it was a common end to their arguments.

"You know how Dad works, Peeta." Bran looked up at his younger brother after pinning Wheaton to the mattress. "You can just lay low. We really want to go."

Wheaton and Bran were freshmen. Of course they would do anything to attend college parties—with college girls.

"I'm not into these parties, Bran. You know that," Peeta huffed and sat on his chair, facing both his brothers while they wrestled half-heartedly on his bed. "What would I do there?"

The politically correct Bran didn't have a response to that. While he sought an honest answer, Wheaton freed himself and grabbed Peeta's sketchbook, still laying unsuspiciously on the desk. Peeta's eyes went wide while he jumped on his brothers, madly trying to reach his precious drawings, and the typical Mellark tangle was set.

"Holy shit!" Wheaton exclaimed in half-laugher when—all the time fighting off Peeta and Bran—he saw the contents of the sketchbook. Even Bran helped to hold Peeta down when he saw the drawings.

"Are you fucking Gale's cousin?"

Wheaton still had his eyes glued to the sketch while Bran asked the question in a serious tone. Each Mellark groaned at the mention of Gale's name, though for different reasons: Wheaton didn't like Gale because they had an old competition in sports; Gale was dating Madge Undersee, Bran's ex-girlfriend. Actually, Gale was the reason Madge had broken up with Bran. And Peeta didn't like Gale because he made it look so easy to talk to _her_, joke with _her_, be with _her_.

"No!" Peeta shouted, purple from embarrassment and effort to grab the book back. "It's just, it's just—"

"Just your personal porn collection." Wheaton closed the sketchbook with a satisfied grin. "Tell you what, little bro," he continued, tossing the book at Peeta's direction, who clung to it like dear life. "Do you know who is going to be at this party?" Wheaton exchanged a knowing look with Bran.

"Gale." Bran elaborated, "And he's never alone … with his girlfriend and all. But …"

"Chicks don't like to hang out without their friends," finished Wheaton.

Peeta hated when they completed one another's sentences.

"And who is Madge's friend?" Bran asked.

Peeta gulped. "Katniss," he answered quietly.

"We can help you with her, you know. Older brother's tip." Wheaton winked at him, his bright smile in place again.

"I really don't think I—"

"How do you plan to get into her pants? With cheese buns?" Wheaton's playful tone hurt, because Peeta had actually thought about trying that.

"Maybe you can make a live model sketch next time," Bran said casually, and just the thought of that made Peeta's throat dry.

"I'll drive."

* * *

Peeta chugged his second beer in less than ten minutes. The music booming in his ears almost didn't allow him to him listen to the advice Wheaton was providing, even if his brothers had spent the whole ride to the party giving Peeta "great" tips on how to get girls. Until now, the alcohol was the best advice shared. He felt silly in his blue tank top, but it was a relief inside the crowded house. No matter how many people were around him, her eyes would draw him like a magnet.

There she was.

In a corner, half-listening to Madge, Katniss nursed her own beer. Her grey eyes showed the scowl Peeta was familiar with—he wanted to massage his fingers along her tense neck, her furrowed eyebrows, kneading softly until her face relaxed into a rare, beautiful smile.

With one last gulp of his beer and a quick check that his hair was still in place, Peeta squared his shoulders and marched in Katniss' direction.

* * *

This was a bad idea. Katniss just knew it.

She didn't want to be there. Gale had come up with this "college party" idea, and Madge had begged Katniss to tag along, knowing Gale would leave her alone at some point at the party.

Like now.

Madge was babbling about something that involved a dress, but Katniss was ignoring her in favor of watching the bubbles in her beer—she knew Madge never needed a second person when she wanted to talk. Looking up from her cup, Katniss smiled politely at her friend while glancing around the room to search for more beer. That was when she saw him.

This party was definitely a bad idea.

Madge's voice droned on as Katniss tried to look anywhere but at those piercing blue eyes that were always _there_—her classes, during lunch, at the community center. What was up with that guy? And that blue tank top? What the hell?

Katniss was sure this would be just one more episode of wordless glances as Peeta finished his beer, fixing her with his glassy stare like she was caught prey.

"Shit …" she hissed quietly, her eyebrows arched in surprise and maybe a little bit of panic; and that sensation in her stomach was a hundred percent the alcohol's fault.

Even Madge was caught off guard when Peeta approached the two girls, eyes fixed on Katniss' form. Her hand closed tightly around her solo cup, the other playing with the ends of her hair. Katniss suddenly missed her braid, not sure of what to do with her hands.

"Hi," Peeta said enthusiastically, his breath announcing how much he had been drinking—or was it Katniss'?

"Peeta!" Madge turned around surprised, smiling at him. Peeta was always her favorite of Bran's brothers, and even though things didn't work out with Bran, she liked the little Mellark.

Though calling those biceps "little" didn't make much sense anymore.

"Hi," he responded with the same tone, finally breaking the stare she was sharing with Katniss since he was on the other side of the room. "Hi, Madge!" he said louder due to the music echoing around them.

"Katniss, this is Peeta—"

"I know who he is." Katniss recovered her frown as he offered her the brightest smile she had ever seen. If her scowl faltered then, she would never admit it.

"Hi, babe," he directed at Katniss, and she couldn't help but choke a little as she coughed beer into her hand.

_Babe?_

Completely unaffected by her reaction, Peeta offered her his hand. "Do you want to dance?"

Madge giggled and bumped her friend's hip with her own. Katniss shot her a deadly glare, but the blonde's smile just got wider. _If she dares to respond_ … but Madge's high-pitched voice cut Katniss' thought.

"Katniss_ loves_ to dance!"

Katniss wasn't sure of what happened after that, but the next thing she knew was that Peeta's strong hand was firmly wrapped around hers—the one still sticky with beer—and they were pressed between sweaty bodies, the music almost making her deaf.

Or maybe it was the strength of his grip, really, her fingers were starting to feel numb. But she wasn't going to tell him it was too strong.

As Peeta led them to the makeshift dance floor, he made sure Katniss' back faced his brothers, because Wheaton was giving him a thumbs-up and making obscene gestures with his hands and hips. _"Touch her ass while dancing," _the advice resounded in Peeta's partially drunk mind.

When he released her hand to try to place it on her waist, her stare was so menacing that he retreated his hands and they hovered there, almost touching and awkwardly moving to the music's beat.

Katniss squinted at him and leaned her body into his; but what he initially read as a small success was actually the only way she could make herself heard over the din of the party.

"What are you doing?" Her words flowed from her lips, and Peeta closed his eyes at her body heat so close to him.

"We're dancing," he answered surely, because he had no idea what was going on, only that he was dancing.

"You know what I mean." She looked around embarrassingly, her sensitive ears protesting the loud beat. "You never talk to me. You barely can look me in the eyes, but you're always _there_." She looked up at him defiantly. "What are you doing?"

Peeta gulped, the courage the alcohol and his brother had given him suddenly vanishing.

_Touch. Her. Ass._

"I'm … I'm ah…"

And suddenly his hands were there, and he instinctively curled up his fingers, a bolt of electricity spreading through him to his toes. Under her tight jeans, he was sure he could make out the exact curve of her ass—his drawings were impressively accurate. He was about to spread his palm over her toned thigh when she jerked back, the momentary stunning she experienced when he touched her quickly wearing off.

Her temporary surprise was replaced by anger.

He didn't feel it right away. It wasn't until he was on the reeking and sticky floor that Peeta Mellark realized he had been punched. His chin was aching from the blow under it, and it had been so hard he thought she had used her elbow—she had used her elbow, striking him from her lower height.

Invisible to the dancing bodies around him, Peeta got up from the floor, dizzy from beer and the punch. Part of him could make out his brother's guffaw on the background, but his mind focused on the raven hair disappearing into the middle of the crowd.

* * *

Who the fuck did he think he was? No one, _no one_ grabbed Katniss' ass like that and walked away freely. Especially _him_.

She ignored the fact that the look in his eyes made her feel goose bumps all over her body, or how warm his palm had felt against her jeans. He simply wasn't allowed to break their understood pattern of silent staring by abruptly appearing in front of her and asking for a dance. She was completely fine with what they shared up until then, which had been practically nothing.

She never wondered what would happen if one day he actually talked to her, or if his voice would sound free from embarrassment. Katniss definitely didn't notice his arms that night, his flat abs or his perfect blond hair that seemed tamed even in the sweaty room.

Katniss didn't have time for boys and that was fine with her.

She pushed her way out of the house, thankfully finding back yard empty. Her elbow hurt from the force with which she had hit his chin, and she wondered briefly if he was alright. She quickly tossed that thought away with the same eagerness that she started to braid her hair.

Stupid party, stupid Madge—who conveniently disappeared—and stupid fingers that were sticking to her hair as she tried to untangle it.

He found her like this, vividly cursing her hair while she worked on her braid, sitting in a wooden chair in the back yard. Her fingers stopped moving at the sight of him, her face assuming her typical scowl.

Peeta looked down self-consciously and extended his arm, offering her one of the solo cups he was holding. She eyed him warily, unsure if she should get up and leave or accept the cold beer.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly, still not meeting her eyes. "I was a jerk."

"Yes you were," she responded, finally accepting the cup. He stood awkwardly next to her until she tipped her head, allowing him to sit in the chair next to hers.

"I don't know what I was doing," he confessed, looking at her. At her frown, he completed. "Your question from before? I have no idea what I was doing."

"You never talk to me. You don't know me."

He laughed quietly at this, the remaining alcohol in his bloodstream still enough to restrain his inhibitions.

"I know everything about you, Katniss."

The way his blue eyes locked on hers made her belly clench, and she avoided his stare with one long swig from her cup. His tone was profound, getting lighter as he spoke.

"We share three classes, though we only talked in the science class last year."

_If talking about a frog's liver can be classified as "talk",_ he thought bitterly.

"You always sit in the same seat, in the middle of the class by the window. You have lunch with Madge, and if she's not with you, you eat alone and then spend the rest of lunch reading in the library."

She should feel creeped out by his observations, but the edge of vulnerability in his voice made it sound like he cared. Like Peeta Mellark honestly cared about her.

"You teach archery at the community center. You almost never laugh, unless Gale's around …" His face took a sober note, but she decided to ignore her need to ask him why.

"That's …" She took a deep breath, shyly meeting his eyes. "That's kind of creepy."

He laughed heartily at this, his mind going to his sketchbook. _If only she knew …_

Seeing him laughing so freely, her first smile of the night illuminated to her face. Peeta's laugh subsided and his own lopsided smile flashed.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I'm not stalking you or anything like that."

"You wrestle." Her voice startled him. Her grey eyes were darker under the poor light, but he could read sincerity in them. "You teach a cooking class right after my archery one at the community center. The kids talk about you."

He listened carefully, glowing inside at the fact that Katniss Everdeen had actually paid attention to him. If it was the fogginess of his drinking or even the dim light, he didn't know, but to him, she seemed utterly beautiful that night.

"You have an obnoxious brother—"her nose wrinkled at this and Peeta's smile widened. "—and a quiet one Madge dated."

"We can't compete in the siblings matter," he said in a small laugh, and at the thought of Prim, Katniss smiled again. What propelled her next words had to be the alcohol, not the insistent butterflies in her stomach. Because she would never admit this otherwise.

"You remind me of my father." She looked down to her beer, her shimmering reflection staring back at her. "No other man besides him ever looked at me the way you do."

The silence that followed her declaration, punctuated by the distant thud of the electronic music, was not awkward or pitiful. It held a trace of understanding that surprised both Katniss and Peeta.

"Do you want to dance?" He stood up calmly and extended his hand to her.

"I may hit you again," she warned in light playfulness, but he knew she could keep that promise.

"My jaw can take it," he joked, touching his chin. He hissed at the contact.

There is was again: her smile.

* * *

The lights in her house were off, indicating that Prim was already asleep. Peeta parked the car inside the Everdeen's garage, cutting the engine with a soft click. Katniss' mother worked the night shift that Wednesday, and they had gone to the movies to catch the new franchise film.

The making out that followed was just part of being a teenager and in love.

Peeta had slid over to the passenger seat as soon as Katniss freed herself from the seatbelt. His weight was heavy on her, but she welcomed his kiss with hungry lips.

They had been dating for a few months, and each new experience showed her that going to that party hadn't been such a bad idea after all … she might even thank Gale someday.

A deep, guttural moan escaped her throat when Peeta's tongue traced the way from her jaw to her neck, something new for both of them.

"Do you … do you want to go to the back seat?" he asked hopefully, knowing his broad shoulders were weighing on her petite body.

Katniss never agreed to making out inside her house, since Prim could wake up at any moment. For their circumstances, the back seat of a car inside a dimly lit garage was the best option.

"Okay." Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were full of promises.

They didn't break the kiss as they opened the front door and moved to the back seat—a feat only young and flexible bodies could perform. Peeta's hands remained respectfully on her thighs, but that night Katniss wanted more. Her unusual choice of wearing a skirt, a pink one at that, was supposed to be a sign, but eighteen year old boys were slow at learning the signs (and some simply never learned).

She guided them both to lay on the backseat, Peeta on top of her. When her hand pushed his further up her legs, he froze.

"It's okay," she whispered between kisses, never satisfied with the need to feel his lips over her body. "We can … you can do that."

He looked up confusingly, his eye heavy with arousal and question.

"Not all the way," she explained, blushing. "But, you know …"

Katniss rolled her eyes and Peeta grinned; she could be so pure sometimes.

"I can wait as long as you want," he said reassuringly, and she nodded, telling him she trusted him.

His lips were on hers again, sucking intently, opening her mouth to incite her tongue to play. Her hands held his back firmly, pushing him up so their chests would meet. Katniss spread her legs to allow Peeta to fit between them, the front of his jeans rubbing against her cotton panties.

They had never been so close, and the feel of her warmth made Peeta uncomfortably harder in his restrictive pants. He bucked his hips into hers, and the deep moan that filled the car encouraged him to try to set a rhythm rubbing against her.

"Peeta," she hissed in a small whimper, the pressure he was applying to her not quite the one her body was craving. "I want you to touch me."

He gulped nervously at her request, her hooded eyes inviting him in every way.

"You can … you can slip one leg off your panties. Then I can touch you and you won't lose them in the car." His words brushed her ear. His pale cheeks blossomed in red, feeling embarrassed and excited at the same time.

She cocked her head, her eyebrow forming a thin line. "And how did you come up with that?"

Listening to the suspicious edge on her voice, Peeta was fast to clarify.

"My brothers!" He pushed back to look at her questioning eyes. "They won't stop giving me advice about this stuff." He focused his eyes on her exposed thighs. "But please let's not talk about the Mellarks." His eyes found hers again and he went in for the kiss her parted lips offered.

"There's only one Mellark on my mind right now," she whispered and nibbled his earlobe, using one hand to slip her panties down, exposing herself for the first time.

He found a spot on her neck that left her constantly whimpering as his trembling hand traveled up her inner thigh. Neither suppressed a moan when his fingers encountered her wet folds, gliding softly through her lips.

The fact that his hand was sliding against her, slick with the arousal he made her feel, was enough to make the tightening of Peeta's pants unbearable. But he would endure anything if she kept making those noises—he could die happily with her moaning his name like that.

His hand was inexperienced, insecure, but that only made her more confident that this was his first time doing this. Her clever hands sneaked down her body to help him find her most sensitive nub, his pads learning her rhythm. Peeta's arm ached by the effort of holding himself over her, but he wasn't going to move for something silly as that; he would stop time to just keep himself lost in Katniss' moans, her legs parting wider at each new move of his fingers.

He gasped in surprise when her hand fund the bulge in his pants, looking down at her lidded, grey eyes. "I want to feel you," she confessed breathless, and all he could do was nod.

His arm was relived from the exhaustion when he sat back to unzip his pants. Under the small light, his eyes caught the glint of her arousal, her knees firmly placed around his hips. Peeta's fingers faltered with the button of his jeans, his eyes glued to the junction of her legs. Katniss looked down self-consciously, moving one hand to cover herself; but the feathery touch on her swollen clit incited a moan, and Peeta almost lost it.

He hissed when his boxers brushed his arousal, his erection springing free from the tension. His palm closed around himself, the feeling of his fingers coated with her arousal the best thing he had ever felt.

Until her small hand pried his open and enclosed his hard shaft. Peeta closed his eyes, moaning breathlessly when Katniss tentatively moved her hand up and down. He was trembling when he looked down at her again, seeing her furrowed brow.

"What?" he asked confusingly, but it sounded too close to a gasp when her thumb spread the moisture gathering on his head.

"It's just so …"

He gulped, fearing what adjective she was going to use to complete her phrase.

"… soft. I like it." She looked up at him with such an innocent smile that he wanted to smile back—if her hand wasn't currently pumping him. He lowered himself to capture her lips again, her innocence melting into deep, raw desire. Peeta's hand ran to her hair, threading her lose locks and pulling her closer to him. Her hands left his cock to run up his chest, under his shirt, the pad of her fingers grasping his hardened nipples.

Her name fled from his tongue at the same time she mewled in building pleasure when his erection brushed against her wet folds. He twitched involuntarily, the contact sending bolts thorough his entire body. Katniss thought that his fingers had felt amazingly good between her legs, but this sensation, something hard and yet velvety, slick and inviting sliding against her left her wordless.

"Katniss …" he warned in self-restraint the moment her hand went down to touch him again.

Sensing what was on his mind, she glanced up to discover the thin circle of blue around his dilated pupils. "Just don't push it, okay?" Her voice was breathless, and she needed, god she _needed_ him touching her there.

He nodded fervently and closed one fist beside her head, the other helping to support his weight above her against the car door.

"I just want to … I … ahh," she finished her sentence in a throaty groan, deep from her lungs and being when she guided him to rub against her painfully throbbing center. Peeta groaned too, directing all his will to push into her against the door instead, his knuckles white from effort.

Katniss wasn't even trying to suppress her embarrassingly loud moans as she continued to glide him against her. Her arousal lubricated him to slide effortlessly, her speed heating up with her moans and ragged breath.

"Peeta," she pleaded, lost in the unstoppable pleasure coiling in her lower belly. "I'm, I'm feeling—"

"Let it come." His voice was low with want, desire and a small hint of something he wouldn't dare to declare yet. "Don't stop, Katniss."

Her hips were writhing on their own accord against him, her hand moving as fast as the small space between their bodies would let her. Katniss nodded under his chin, new to the sensations and feelings taking up her hand, her chest, her belly, and holly shit, she was going to explode.

Peeta whispered one last thing she couldn't comprehend because suddenly she reached there, and the crushing tension in the deepest of her core overflowed to the extension of her being.

He watched with clenched jaw and short breaths as her head fell back in complete abandon, her voice reaching a high pitch he had never heard before—but would work hard to hear it again, and again. Her face contorted at each new wave of pleasure, eyes screwed shut and mouth open throughout her release.

When her hand finally stopped between them, she placed her sweaty forehead against his neck, trailing slow, wet kisses on his tensed jaw.

She squealed in surprise when he abruptly sat up, hoisting her by the waist to sit on his lap. Her legs straddled his thigh, her arousal mixing with his downy hairs. Peeta hugged her tightly against him, almost painfully as his strong arms engulfed her.

Still in her post-orgasmic release, she looked up to meet his eyes with a sly smile. At the sight of his tensed face and feeling his chest heaving heavily next to her, she smirked knowingly. Her hand closed around him again, feeling the throbbing through his skin, and this time she was more confident, moving her palm firmly.

"Show me," her husky voice asked, her palm sliding over his head.

She didn't need to ask twice.

His bigger hand closed around hers, swiftly moving their hands up and down his entire length. Katniss rested her head on his shoulder, her other arm sneaking between his back and the car seat. She was mesmerized by the strength with which he moved their hands and the sexy way his lips parted to heave his ragged breaths. Katniss wanted to make him feel as much as she had, and by the way his hand sped up against hers and his eyes shut in mild pain, she knew he was close.

She moved her hips invitingly on his leg and swirled her tongue on a pulsating spot of his neck, sucking eagerly.

At the hot contact of her tongue, Peeta's voice caught on his throat, a repressed moan filling the air along with the wet sounds of their hands. Katniss wasn't quite prepared when his hand closed tightly around hers again, their movement subduing as Peeta came strongly, his hips arching off the seat and a tired moan escaping his lips.

She thought it sounded perfectly like him.

Her hand, his chest, pants and the car seat were covered by his release when they both could finally breathe again.

"Shit," she complained quietly, open and closing her sticky hand. A hint of hurt crossed Peeta's satisfied face, but Katniss added quietly. "It's okay. I … I like it." Her curious smile made him smile goofily at her again. "But the car is a mess."

"Don't worry about that." He kissed her forehead, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"But this is your brothers' car!" she said alarmed, looking around them to confirm that the back seat was definitely … sticky with different body fluids.

"Don't worry, babe," he quipped, knowing how she hated the word. He kissed her frown away. "Let's just say this is a small payback."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Special thanks to the betareader: **honeylime**.

I'm **thesagaciousowl** on tumblr; come find me!


End file.
